


you like your boys insane

by PaperCities



Category: The Walk - Fandom, The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Asphyxiation, Blood Play, Bottom Carl Grimes, Choking, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Dark Carl Grimes, Dubious Consent, Evil Carl Grimes, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Jealous Negan (Walking Dead), M/M, Manipulation, Multi, Murderers, Plot Twists, Possessive Negan (Walking Dead), Possessive Rick, Protective Rick Grimes, Psychiatrist Negan, Psychological Trauma, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Smoking, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Negan (Walking Dead), Top Rick Grimes, Underage Sex, slut carl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 16:32:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13744908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperCities/pseuds/PaperCities
Summary: Carl had always been Rick’s good boy, even after his mother’s violent accident and Rick’s four month coma. But under the surface of his excellent grades and innocent smiles lurks a more deranged and salacious Carl. Unbeknown to his father, he and his psychiatrist, Dr. Negan, have only just begun wreaking havoc.OR: Carl and Negan are fucking psychos and Rick can’t help but fall into the fire with them.





	you like your boys insane

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey hey~ I'm back after a long hiatus from writing ANYTHING. Sorry for the long months of silence, but I'm back with another fandom and another fic!  
> This one is rather dark, rather creepy so I'm gonna give a little warning. (big warning)
> 
> !!!WARNING (READ THIS BEFORE YOU GO ON)!!!  
> This fic contains:  
> -murder  
> -graphic sex  
> -underage sex  
> -father/son incest  
> -psychological trauma and abuse  
> -violence  
> -insanity  
> I DO NOT RECOMMEND ANYONE TO READ THIS IF ANY OF THE ABOVE TRIGGERS YOU.  
> I do not condone any of the above. This is simply fictional and for entertainment purposes. 
> 
> *Sorry if I forget to tag anything. Just let me know if I do*
> 
> Anywhosits, enjoy!  
> Questions, comments, concerns, suggestions? Feel free to contact me :D

 

 

RICK

 

Rick arrives home from the station that night to a warm, delicious meal prepared by his boy. It wasn’t a rare occurrence, but each time Carl does this for him, his heart melts just a little more at the sweetness of his child. 

Carl had always been well behaved. If it hadn’t been for his mother’s death and Rick’s near death experience, he might have been even more radiant. It hurts Rick to know that these two tragic events caused Carl to retreat back into the shell he hid in as a child. The psychiatrists had helped Carl immensely, had urged him to speak about his feelings and issues. The most recent, Dr. Negan, Ph.D, really drew the “real” Carl out with his easygoing attitude and boisterous laugh. Rick was very grateful. 

“Welcome home, dad,” Carl calls, turning to smile at him sweetly before going back to rinsing out the used dishes. “I made chicken florentine, your favorite.”

Rick chuckles, replying,“You know me so well”, before leaning in to press a firm kiss to Carl’s temple. A flush of pink colors Carl’s cheeks as he lowers his eyes and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear.

Only later does it occur to Rick that his gestures should have been reserved for his wife or significant other. There was something else that seemed off with Carl’s reaction, but Rick pushes the feeling aside as Carl sets down a steaming plate of his favorite pasta in front of him. 

It’s delicious, and the faint dimple of Carl’s cheek when he smiles at his father is the sweetest thing Rick’s ever seen. 

 

…

 

Another night, Rick finds Carl upstairs in his room, after heating up some dinner prepared by his son. The boy’s asleep on his bed, clutching a family portrait of the three of them, smiling at some diner a couple years ago. Carl must really miss Lori. God knows how quick her death was. The boy had sounded devastated that day when he called Rick after the crash. 

He sits on the bed next to his sleeping frame, hand reaching out to stroke Carl’s chin and neck. The skin there is so soft and so pale, it was easy to see the pulsating veins beneath the silky skin. 

“I’m sorry, Carl. You deserve better,” he mumbles, brows furrowing. “I wish I was better.” 

He stays there until he falls asleep next to Carl.

 

…

 

“I’m pleased at how quickly he’s improved, Sheriff.”

Negan grins at him behind the paperwork. Rick returns the gesture. 

“Well, he’s had the best of the best to work with,” he replies, patting Carl’s thigh where he rests his hand. Carl rolls his eyes. 

“You two are always flirting, I swear,” the boy complains, biting back a smile. 

Negan snorts. “And you’re always acting like a puss, boy.”

Rick laughs. “Thank you, doctor. He’ll continue his sessions Tuesday.”

 

…

 

Shane comes over Sunday. He hugs Carl like he always does, enthusiastically and tightly. Carl laughs with him. Shane still likes to tease Carl about girlfriends and boyfriends and whatever other teenage things there were to talk about. 

Rick enjoys watching them goof off together; it’s the only endearing that was left behind after Lori’s death. She’d be so happy that Carl still had the two of them caring so much for him.

 

…

 

CARL

 

The first time he meets Negan, he knew his game wasn’t over. 

The moment his father leaves, Carl ups the good boy act, but he inconspicuously tugs his shirt collar down and pulls his shorts up to reveal more skin. He sits across from Negan, peering at him through powdery lashes. 

“Look, kid. I can see through this little act,” Negan announces curtly. His crassness drew Carl in. “Your seduction and pretend innocence and shit might work with some other guy- but not me.”

He tilts his head, feigning ignorance again. “I’m sorry, what?” 

Negan raises an eyebrow. 

“Am I imagining things or are you flirting with me?” 

Carl fakes appall. “I’m not that type of boy, Dr. Negan!” 

The man leans back, studying him intently. 

“You’re damn good, I’ll give you that.”

Carl doesn’t respond. He wants to see how much Negan is able to see through him.

“Does it work? Do most guys take the hint?” the man continues. “What would your  _ father _ say?”

Carl snaps then; the mention of his father is always the last straw. He stands abruptly, striding over to Negan before slipping his leg over the man’s lap. In his straddle position, he presses his lips to the Negan’s. He kisses him fiercely, warm lips and tongue suckling and licking. At first, Negan doesn’t move, staying still like a statue. Carl doesn’t expect to be gripped tight by the shoulders and pushed away firmly. 

An almost pained expression flits over Negan’s face, and Carl knows he’s already won. 

“ _ You _ are off your fucking rockers, Mr. Grimes,” he breathes out, voice husky. “I oughtta tell your daddy.”

Carl leans in to flick his tongue across the man’s lip. “But you won’t, will you?” 

They stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, close enough that they’re sharing the same air.

“No,” Negan answers eventually. “I won’t.”

 

…

 

He crosses his mother’s face out in permanent black ink, scribbling and scribbling until her entire figure is covered by it. It gives him a satisfaction. He’s glad she’s no longer able to torment Rick with her  _ big _ secret. He won’t let anyone hurt Rick. 

Even if it meant to get the last player out of the picture. 

 

…

 

“So what are you gonna do next?” Negan asks, blowing cigarette smoke into the air. 

Carl shrugs, still tracing the pirate skull tattoo on Negan’s bare chest. They’re lazing around in bed, both exhausted from their desperate sex. It’s a late Sunday afternoon, and Rick’s out on double shift again. Carl came to Negan, horny and a bit pissed off, trying to stop the way his heart thumped so violently after Rick ended with call with a tender, “I love you, Carl”. The man didn’t hesitate to let him in and fuck him as roughly as he wanted. 

“I need to start dropping hints so my dad’ll believe me when I tell him,” he says, reaching over to pluck the cigarette out of Negan’s fingers. He inhales deeply, letting the burn hit the bottom of his lungs before placing it between Negan’s lips. The man chuckles as he puffs it out. 

“You’re gonna need some physical evidence, honey,” he says. 

Carl smirks, pulling the sheets off to unveil his creamy body. Finger shaped bruises litter his skin where Negan held him down to pound him into the mattress. Hickies cover his thighs and neck. 

“That evidence enough, doctor?” he asks, fluttering his eyelashes. 

Negan laughs loudly, pulling Carl back into his arms and kissing him roughly. Carl kisses back with the same passion, grinning when he feels the pinch of his lip splitting by the force of it. Negan runs his nails over Carl’s back, leaving small scratches on the milky skin. Carl moans.

“Make me bleed, Negan,” he mewls, wrapping his legs tight around Negan’s waist. 

Negan slips back into his used hole roughly. He lets out a cry so loud, surely the neighbors all heard. 

 

…

 

Carl surprises his dad the next morning with coffee, eggs, bacon, and fresh fruit. Rick beams so brightly at him, his heart palpitates hard in his chest. 

“So good to me, Carl,” he says, sipping his coffee and turning his attention to the news paper. 

Carl sits across from him at the dining table, drinking his orange juice and nibbling at the corner of his buttered toast. Rick turns back to his breakfast, using his knife to pop a yolk before bringing the blade up to his tongue. Carl watches wistfully as he laps up the yolk before going back and taking a piece of the egg into his mouth. Carl doesn’t even realize he’s leaning forward on his chair until he slips and almost spills his orange juice. 

Rick looks up and smiles when Carl rushes to the sink to keep the juice from dripping off his chin. If only he knew what Carl felt; he’d be disgusted. 

 

…

 

RICK

 

The scarf catches his attention first. The large, fluffy thing was  _ way _ too warm to wear in 87 degree weather. Carl doesn’t seem to notice his curious looks- maybe he was trying to be ignorant. Rick was once a teenager, too. 

“Carl,” he calls as the boy begins to gather his supplies for school. Carl stops and raises his eyebrows at him in question. 

Rick goes to him, unwrapping his scarf despite the boy’s weak protests. On his skin is a cluster of hickies and teeth marks. He sees that they trail further down the exposed skin and he can only guess where they lead to. Rick half-chuckles, half-gasps. He turns to Carl with an amused yet concerned expression.

“Is there anything I should know, Carl?” he asks, teasingly. “Do we have to have  _ the _ talk?”

He didn’t expect Carl’s expression to suddenly sour or for him to jerk himself out of Rick’s grasp. 

“There’s nothing up, dad,” he says, scowling, snatching the scarf back with a rough tug. “I’m going to school.”

He leaves Rick standing at the door in shock.

 

…

 

“I’m telling you! I don’t know what to think,” Rick says to Shane on patrol that day. 

They’re eating donuts and burgers in the car, chatting over random topics until Rick remembers Carl’s odd behavior. 

“Maybe he’s got a secret girlfriend,” Shane shrugs. “I don’t think you should worry about ‘im. All teenagers act rebellious some time in their life. Hell, even we were rebellious in high school.”

Rick contemplates it for a moment before shaking his head. 

“No, I know Carl, and this isn’t how he’s like,” he muses. “He changed so much after Lori’s… accident. He’s always been a good kid, you know that, Shane. Is he drawing away from me now?”

Shane looks at him hard and long, then rolling his eyes. 

“He’s not, Rick. Listen to yourself! He loves you; he only has you. Just give him time to figure his shit out.”

Rick tries to believe it, but deep down he knows something isn’t right.

 

…

 

Carl surprises him again that night with an apology and dinner. 

The whole house smells like pecans and salmon and creme brulee, and Carl’s bustling around in the kitchen. Rick walks in with an astonished face, taking in the sight of the beautiful dishes of food. For a moment he forgets that Lori was no longer here; he must’ve mistaken his boy for her. 

“What is this? A celebration?” he asks, leaning against the kitchen island. 

Carl jumps in surprise, turning to face him. His eyes immediately lower in shame.

“No, dad. This is an apology,” he murmurs, wringing his hands. “I’m sorry for snapping at you this morning. I didn’t mean it, and I regretted it all day.”

Rick, thoroughly shocked, goes straight up to him, pressing a kiss to his forehead and crushing his son in a bear hug. Carl presses against him so tightly that no air could pass between them. Rick presses his nose into Carl’s sweet smelling hair and temporarily forgets about the bruises that marred his son’s delicate skin.

 

…

  
Carl grew a habit of sleepwalking; it was something that begun after Lori’s death. 

Physicians and doctors alike told Rick that it was a temporary thing, most likely drawn from the boy’s shaken inner emotional state. On occasional nights, Rick would be roused by the feeling of cold little toes pressed against his thighs as Carl attempted to huddle closer to his father. Of course Rick couldn’t kick the boy out of his bed, and he didn’t want to put Carl back into his own bed in case he rose again later that night. Instead, on those nights, he cradled his arms around Carl and drew him closer.

When Carl was slightly younger, there was never really a problem. Rick had simply held him until the boy woke dazed but content. But as time progressed, the sleepwalking hadn’t gone away as the doctors had said it would, and dealing with it became more….distracting.   
There was no way _not_ to notice the warm body that pressed soft and snug against his frontside in the middle of the night. 

There was no way not to notice the boyish yet alluring scent of Carl. It must have been Carl’s sharpening youth, which caused Rick became too aware of his new curves. The boy’s body was nothing the way his mother’s was, but he had his own feel and softness. His hips were wider now, his waist pinched, his bones more defined, and his heat bloomed in every crevice of Rick.   
He purrs tonight, gentle kitten-like sounds, as he inches closer. 

His ass fits between the jut of Rick’s hips perfectly, like a puzzle piece. And suddenly, Rick feels an overwhelming desire, something he can’t place, but something that he knows he shouldn’t be feeling towards his own son. With horror, he realizes that the desire morphed into something impossibly ugly, heat pooling in his groin and--  
Carl presses back with his body, arching his small back into Rick’s chest, the ridges of his spine protruding from under his thin clothing. 

Rick can’t stand the warmth, the heat, the wriggling body. His cock brushes against the cotton of his pajama trousers, stiff and leaking pre-cum.  
Carl mewls again, lips parting to breathe better from the warmth.   


“Daddy,” his murmurs, squirming as he tilts his head back into the juncture between Rick’s neck and shoulder. His heady scent fills his father’s nose. It drown everything out, making the edges of Rick’s vision hazy, like some carnal dream. “… love you…”   


A shudder passes through Rick’s body, curling his toes and drumming his heart. It was wrong, he knows, it was so very wrong to think this way of his son. But he feels smooth, hairless legs slide against his own, the softness of Carl’s hair, the milky throat that brushes his chin and he comes with a feral groan.

It leaves him shaken and mortified, with a shattering realization sinking into his chest. He rips the blanket off and hastily moves Carl to one side before hurrying to the bathroom to clean himself up. 

 

…

 

CARL

 

Carl notices the way Rick seems to be hesitating in his presence these days. A kiss to the forehead is often premeditated now, and he throws the “I love you’s” after a second thought. He wonders if Rick thinks he’s getting too old for the coddling, or if the man is trying to advocate independency now that his birthday is approaching. 

He hopes he still has a couple years before Rick pulls away completely.

 

…

 

Negan’s fucking him so hard, he aches all over at the force of his thrusts. Tears well from the corners of his eyes, and his sobs rack his whole body.

“God, Negan! Don’t stop, please!”

The man can only grunt, hips jerking back and forth. A scream rips from Carl’s throat at the stretch and burn of his ass. His tears flow freely now. He bites the silk sheets to keep from spewing the only name on his mind. 

Carl feels Negan deep inside of him, pulsating and hot. Negan curses when Carl clenches suddenly.

“No, baby, don’t do that,” he says. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

Carl tries to relax but his body tenses tight like a bow. The next thrust drives him forward into the headboard, and he cries out as he feels himself tear around Negan. It’s too much for him, the pain, the heat, the thoughts. 

“Daddy,” he cries softly into the pillow. “Daddy, please.”

Negan slowed his pace, brows furrowing. “What was that, baby?”

Carl clenches his teeth. Negan thrusts again, hard. Carl sobs at the blood that dribbles down his thighs. 

“Daddy,  _ please _ ! I can’t-”

Negan caresses his cheek, leaning down to press kisses to the corners of his eyes. “Shh, shh, baby. Daddy will take care of you real good. You’d like that, won’t you?”

Carl nods, breaths hitching. “Yes, daddy.”

He hates himself for not being able to think of anything else but his father’s face for the rest of the night.

 

…

 

“Are you excited to spend next week with Shane?” Rick asks him over lunch at the cafe that served the best blueberry pie. 

Carl pretends to avoid Rick’s eyes, using his fork to smear the pie filling on the plate. This was a perfect opportunity to add to the reveal at the end. He just needed to play his part of the poor, abused victim. He decides to fidget a bit, taking a deep breath before answering his father. 

“Do you think maybe I could stay home instead? I don’t really wanna go.”

Rick gives him a confused look. 

“What’s wrong, Carl? You always loved spending time with him,” he says, concern lining the edge of his question.

Carl bites his lip, looking down at his lap. Rick seemed to be taking the bait. 

“You’re right. It was stupid,” he says with some false hesitation.  “You don’t have to worry about me. Just take care on the trip.”

Rick reaches over to lift his chin. Their identical flint blue-grey eyes meet. “Carl, if there’s anything up, you can talk to me.”

Carl averts his eyes. 

“I know, dad.”

 

_ God, if only you knew… _

 

…

 

Carl calls Shane on Saturday. Rick’s at work and Shane has the day off. 

“Hey, kid. What’s up?” Shane answers, a smile evident in his voice. 

The boy smirks in dark glee. It was  _ so _ easy. How was it so easy? He knew from the day he found out about Shane and Lori’s affair that Shane wanted him. Of course, he would see Lori in Carl’s features. Of course, now that she’s gone, Carl was the perfect replacement. Negan was right; Carl had Shane wrapped around his finger.

“Hi, Shane. I just wanted to hear your voice,” he says, adding a tad of childish sweetness to his voice. He could practically see Shane’s smile widen. “I can’t wait to have a week to ourselves.”

He earns a chuckle from the man. 

“Aw, Carl. I’m glad you’re excited. I am, too.”

Carl bites his lower lip, whining softly.

“Come over today, I wanna see you,” he coos, knowing the man would fall for anything at this point. “Please, Shane. Dad won’t be back ‘till late.”

“Fine, fine!” Shane laughs. “You’re such a needy boy, baby. I’ll be over in a few.”

 

…

 

RICK

 

He sees Shane’s car pulling off the driveway when he gets back. It’s not really a surprise; Shane always came over, but lately, he’s been coming over more often. Carl is nowhere to be found, so Rick assumes he must be studying in his room.

“Carl?” 

When he receives no answer, he frowns and heads upstairs to the boy’s room. His door is ajar. Rick peers in, keeping himself hidden. Carl is sitting in bed, face in his hands, seemingly… completely nude? His chest and shoulders are colored with pink, like he’d just exercised, and Rick is confused to see more hickies dotting his flesh. 

His confusion grows when his eyes fall on the rumpled bed sheets, Carl’s mused hair, and the closed shutters. Had Carl been sleeping? Why was Shane here earlier then? 

Carl moves then, sighing heavily before reaching out to grab his boxers and pants from the floor. Rick turns away and quietly walks back to the end of the hall before pretending to have just arrived home. 

“Carl? You home?” he calls.

He hears hurried rustling from Carl’s room and then a, “Yeah! Sorry, I didn’t realize you were home.” 

Rick scratches the back of his head in confusion. Was he overthinking things? 

 

…

 

“It’s almost his sixteenth birthday, and I just… is he going into that rebellious teenage phase?”

Negan laughs. 

“I really don’t think so, Rick,” he replies. “In all these sessions, he’s only ever expressed how much he cares about you. I don’t think he’ll ever intentionally try to hurt you.”

His answer does much to ease Rick’s concern. It’s so good to hear another person’s opinion on this, and who better to trust than Carl’s own psychiatrist. 

“Thank you so much, Negan,” he says. “I’m a bit more relieved now.”

Negan nods. “I’m glad I could help.”

As Rick is leaving he pauses at the door.

“I know Carl would never ask himself, but he would love to have you over for his birthday.”

The man grins. 

“I’ll clear my schedule for that day, then.”

 

…

 

Carl’s extremely sweet on the morning of his birthday. 

He kisses Rick’s cheek more times than he can count. Rick is almost bursting with happiness. It’s any father’s dream to be so close to their child, and Carl was certainly helping with his reality. As he leaves for school, Carl presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, perhaps on accident, with an adorable, “I love you, daddy.”

Words couldn’t express how fucking great that felt. 

 

…

 

Negan is all but kind and hilarious as always. He brings Carl a gift which turns out to be those expensive Beats wireless headphones the kid’s wanted since Christmas. Rick watches the two of them banter and bicker like old friends. 

“I can’t. I can’t can take these, Negan,” Carl was saying, trying to come to terms with wonderful gift. 

“Yes, you can, Carl. It’s a gift, I know you want it,” Negan responds expertly, chuckling into his beer. 

Rick doesn’t miss the glares Shane and Negan pass at each other all evening when Carl isn’t paying attention. If Rick didn’t know any better, he’d think they were fighting for Carl’s affections. 

 

…

 

_ Rick left that morning without a word to Lori and a kiss to Carl’s temple. He hated how tense things seemed with his wife lately. She had pulled away some time after Carl’s twelve birthday, and Rick was still trying to figure out what he had done or  _ what happened _ in general.  _

_ It was almost noon when he received a call from Carl. He had a big rule that they’d never call him at work unless there was an immediate crisis, and there was no reason for Carl to be calling him on a Saturday when Lori’s going to work.  _

_ A flash of terror passes through him, flushing him with adrenaline.  _

_ “Daddy?” Carl’s voice is watery with tears and shaking with fear.  _

_ “Carl? What happened, what’s wrong?” he demands, fumbling for his keys and hat because he needed to go now. Something was terribly wrong. No child should ever sound like this.  _

_ “I don’t know what happened. I just called her to tell her good luck at work and… and-”  _

_ “What happened, Carl? What happened?!”  _

_ “I think she crashed, daddy. I think she crashed her car.” _

 

…

 

CARL

 

He bids farewell and good luck to his father when Rick drops him off at Shane’s house. He hugs his father tightly, pretending like he doesn’t want to let go and is hesitant to be left alone with Shane.

“Be good, baby,” Rick murmurs into his ear in their embrace. “I’ll see you in a week. I love you.”

The moment he leaves, Carl bounds to Shane with a sly smile.

 

…

 

He calls Negan the first night to make sure of their plan.

“So I gotta get him to fuck me for physical evidence, right? What if I don’t tear enough?” he asks, voice hushed with Shane in the other room.

Negan pauses, thinking. 

“Get kinky, sweetheart. Make him choke you, handcuff you, spank you, I don’t know. You got a whole week to do shit. And don’t you fucking hurt yourself too damn much!”

Carl gasps. “Handcuffs! That’s it!” 

Negan hollers with laughter. 

“Freaky deaky, I tell you. You’re the freakiest little fuck I’ve ever been with,” he says. “You better be careful. You know I’d kill him if he hurts you. I don’t even like you sleeping with him.”

“I’m yours, Negan. I’m only yours.”

“No, Carl.” He can picture Negan shaking his head. “I have your body but your heart? You’re Rick’s and you know it. You’ve only ever belonged to him.”

 

…

 

“Shane, I’m boreddd,” he whines, squirming and pressing his face into Shane’s neck. 

They’re watching some action movie on the couch. Carl’s been teasing him all day, walking into his room half-nude in the morning, kicking his feet under the table at lunch, and crawling into his lap whenever he could. 

It was totally fucking working, if the heated looks Shane has been giving him meant anything. It was only a matter of time until Carl got him hooked. 

“Alright, kid, tell you what,” the man says, amused. “I’ll let you try out the gun again,  _ if  _ you agree to watch the rest of the movie with me later this evening.”

Carl agrees, of course he does. 

 

…

 

Shane stands behind him, pressed close to him, to help him with his aim. He adjusts Carl’s stance, keeping one hand on the boy’s hip and one hand clutching Carl's’ around the gun. Carl bites his lip, nibbling until it’s pink and raw, knowing how hot it gets the other men. Surely, Shane can’t resist it. And he’s right. 

He feels the bulge in Shane’s pants, sees his pupils dilate, hears the panting breaths. Internally, he’s gleeful and ready. Carl goes all out, acting frustrated with his aim, pulling Shane towards him to teach him again, fidgeting and blushing like a virgin. Shane’s so utterly taken by him, it’s almost funny to watch him trip over his own feet to impress and please him.

At night, when they’re watching the movie, he’s once again in the man’s lap. He squirms and sprawls his limbs out, hiding smiles when Shane reaches down to adjust himself. As the hours go by, his eyes begin to droop with drowsiness. He’s jolted out of his dozing when Shane tries to move him off. 

“Come on, Carl. Let’s get you to your room,” he says, hands reaching under Carl’s armpits to pick him up. 

Carl flattens himself against Shane, moaning. He’s dead weight, and Shane groans. 

“Don’t do this Carl, you don’t know what you do to-” 

He halts, cutting off his words like he’s been shocked. Carl suddenly sits up straighter. 

“What?” he asks, rubbing his eyes. “What do I do to who?”

He leans in, turning to straddle the man. Shane clenches his teeth. Carl sighs and buries his face in the juncture of Shane’s neck and shoulder, breathing in heavily. Shane’s hands move to rest on his ass, kneading and squeezing. Carl lets out a shaky breath. 

“Do you want me, Shane?” he dares ask, knowing his calculations are correct. “I see the way you look at me. You want to fuck me, right?”

The man lets out a strangled sound of arousal. Carl nibbles at his neck, tasting salt and musk. He lets his body soften against Shane as he starts rocking up and down on the man’s lap.

“I wanted you for so long, I  _ ached _ for you to split me open in my daddy’s bed.” The lies come easily. The only one Carl wanted to split him open was Rick, but he couldn’t have that. He’d take anyone that reminded him of his dad now. “Tell me you want me, too, Shane. Please, I need you so bad.”

Shane gives in then, slamming their lips together, teeth clashing and tongues intertwining. Carl moans and moans, even as Shane pulls his legs up around his waist and slips into his hole dry.

 

…

 

Carl lays on the bed, spent. His wrists are so bruised by the handcuffs they burn with the blood that threatens to well out. Shane’s passed out on top of him, sweat smeared skin almost suffocating his small body. Carl pushes him off to get up and take a shower, whimpering in pain as blood trickles down his leg. He had really screamed when Shane entered him but masked it as pleasure to keep Shane from worrying. It had really fucking hurt; Carl had no idea how he convinced Shane to do him dry.

By the time he makes it to the bathroom, he’s panting and crying and  _ holy shit _ this is gonna continue for the rest of the week to make the abuse allegations believable. 

 

…

 

RICK

 

When Rick picks him up, he notices the withdrawn look on Carl’s face. His greeting is less enthusiastic as it usually is and his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Shane acts normal, smiling and chatting away with Rick like always. 

Carl parts from Shane with a tight hug, and Rick notices the way Shane seems reluctant to let the boy go. It makes him worried and nervous and concerned all at the same time. 

“How was your week, Carl? Are you alright?” he asks, trying to strike up a conversation. He reaches over to brush through Carl’s hair.

Carl gives him a weak smile. “It was good, dad. We… I had fun.” 

Rick’s smile is laced with question, but he doesn’t dig further. He’ll listen when Carl’s ready to talk. For now, he’s content with resting his hand on the back of Carl’s neck stroking through the tiny curls that tickle there. 

 

…

 

Of all the things Rick expected to be able to happen while one was bathing, Carl knocking on the door in the midst of his bath was not at all on his list. The boy enters the room, his skin covered only by a thin silk robe. A towel is slung over his shoulder.

“Can I borrow your shower?” he asks, not bothered by the fact that Rick was still occupied or the fact that the shower stall is constructed completely of clear glass. 

Rick struggles to answer, gaping at him like a fish out of water.

“We- we have two other showers, Carl,” he says, after a moment of frozen staring at Carl. 

The boy shrugs.

“I don’t want to go to the one downstairs and the hot water in mine needs to be repaired,” he replies, eyes doughy and soft. 

He looks back at his son, at the dainty little boy standing there, and he could not find it in himself to deny him. Carl sneaks a peek at him. Rick sighs. 

“Fine,” he agrees. “ _ Fine _ , but just this once.”

Carl shoots him the most gorgeous smile, shedding his robe and scampering into the shower. His towel rests above the bundle of the robe on the floor. Rick curses his skin for heating and his hair to stand on end. He tries to look away from the boy’s pink and white body, but his eyes refuse to comply. He suddenly notices the hickies and bite marks and scratches all over Carl’s body. His stomach flips. Was Carl sexually active now? He had to be, those marks on him were sign enough. But at a mere sixteen years old? 

Steam curls around and out of the stall. Rick knows Carl always had the habit of turning the water knob to almost burning temperatures. He watches as water rivulets slide down the boy’s body, trickling into every smooth crevice. The hot water turns Carl’s porcelain skin red. The boy shuts his eyes as he wets his hair and runs his hands along the plains of his body. 

Carl’s hair darkens several shades when wet just like his own. The familiar scent of his shampoo fills the room as Carl massages it into his curly locks. His high sigh of contentment reaches Rick’s ears, piling heat in the pit of his stomach. His cock hardens. 

Rick can only grit his teeth. 

This can’t happen again. He’s only stressed and frustrated; he feels no...despicable feelings toward his own son. He  _ can’t _ . 

Carl’s singing something softly under his breath as he rinses his hair under the spray of water. He takes the bar of soap next, a creamy thing that smells of almonds and cedar, and begins lathering it into his skin starting from his neck. The curves of his body are in the direct sight of his father. As were the heavy red and purple bruises around the boy’s wrists, like someone had… handcuffed him. 

Rick shuts his eyes; his skin is overheating as if he were the one in the hot shower. He’s thinking too many odd things. He wants too many things he shouldn’t. He wants to touch Carl, wants to press the boy against the glass and….what? What did he want? 

He wants to  _ fuck  _ Carl. He wants to break the boy and watch as he crumbles from pain and pleasure. The revelation terrifies him. How could he prey on such a young boy? What kind of monster thought of his own son as a sex object? 

This thought did little to cure the flame within him and the arousal he feels for his boy. 

 

…

 

Carl gets home later one day. Rick’s already made dinner.

The boy is pink cheeked and panting, sweat dampening his neck. Carl jolts at the sight of his father, home early. 

“Dad!” he startles, bending down to catch his breath. “You scared me.”

Rick watches him with some amusement. 

“Where’d you go? I already made some lasagna,” he replies. He’s trying to keep it together for their sake, and he hopes he’s passing off as casual. His heart is thrumming just by the sight of Carl. 

“I went, um, running,” the boy answers, avoiding Rick’s eyes as he moves towards the stairs. “I’m gonna go shower first.”

“Wait, wait,” Rick calls after him, but he hears the bathroom door slam. 

Since when did Carl take afternoon jogs? And in jeans?

 

…

 

“He has been acting a little  _ different _ ,” Negan confirms. Rick bites his lip.

“How?”

The doctor leans in, hands folded under his chin. He studies Rick intensely.

“Do you know if someone is hurting him?” he asks, slowly and clearly like Rick needs time to process his words. 

And of course Rick does. Who the hell would have the nerve to hurt his child? The town sheriff’s child.

“Hurting? In what ways?”

“Mentally, emotionally, physically,” Negan answers. “Any way.”

Rick grits his teeth. 

“What are you implying?” 

Negan lets out a heavy sigh. 

“Carl has a… delicate conscious,” he begins, staring straight into Rick’s eyes. “I’m sure that you, as a sheriff of many years, have seen numerous cases of people taking advantage of others with delicate consciouses.”

He pauses to let Rick think it over. 

“People like Carl- those who’ve been through traumatic events… change and cope differently.”

“I know that, Negan. So, you think someone’s taking advantage of Carl’s fragile state of mind?”

The doctor shakes his head. 

“It’s hard to say. I’ve tried asking him in all the ways I can, but he won’t let out a peep,” he says. “Maybe you should ask him yourself.”

Rick nods slowly. He would. He’d find some time to ask Carl about it. He hoped Negan’s words were just speculation and that no one was hurting his boy, but  _ god _ , does he worry.

 

… 

 

It’s only after Carl comes home with a black eye and split lip that Rick panics. 

Carl’s late, so late. It’s nearly midnight and Rick’s called him a dozen times with no answer. He’s worrying and pacing and almost crying. Carl would tell him if he had anything important going on, but what activities did anyone have that lasted until the middle of the night?

When the door finally creaks open and Carl hesitantly steps inside, Rick’s jumping on him, yelling and demanding answers. Carl keeps his head held low, hair in his face, shoulders trembling. Rick doesn’t stop his questioning until Carl buries his face in his hands and begins sobbing.

“Carl?” Rick breaks out in a cold sweat. What could possibly be happening? 

He inches closer, now gentle and pensive. This is his baby boy. The protector and caregiver in Rick emerges. He caresses Carl’s hair, taking the boy’s hands away from his face. He’s shocked by the dark red and purple bruising on Carl’s cheek and eye. Blood trickles from his lip. 

“Who did this, baby?” he asks, as gently as he can while trying to hold down the rage that threatens to overtake him. “Carl, please tell me.”

Carl shakes his head, tears running down his cheeks. Rick knows if he pushes anymore, Carl will cave in on himself.  
“Let’s get you to bed, baby, but you’re gonna have to tell me later.” He helps Carl up the stairs to his room, where he tucks his boy into bed. He runs back to the kitchen to bring Carl some ice for the swelling, an advil, and some warm water. 

Carl doesn’t say anything, just letting his father take care of him. It’s only after he’s on the brink of sleep that he cries out for Rick, begging him to stay with him.

Rick whispers promises and sweet nothings into Carl’s hair as the boy clutches him to sleep. 

 

…

 

He never knew three words could shatter someone’s life completely. 

_ “It was Shane.” _

He swears his whole world tilts. Black and red clog his vision, bringing tears and pain and hate and rage through his entire body. He trembles with emotion. 

Carl, his life, his fire, his baby, his everything, laying there so small and pale on the bed breaks his heart with just three simple words. Shane did this. Shane is the one responsible for the bites and hickeys and bruises. He’s responsible for Carl’s withdraw, his pain, his fear, his tears. He’s hurt Carl so bad and in such a despicable, vile, and wretched way. Rick wanted to hurt him, humiliate him,  _ kill _ him.

He waits for Carl to fall back asleep before storming to the station with his heart weighing tons in his chest and anger brewing tears.

 

…

 

CARL

 

_ “Bye, daddy. I love you.”  _

_ Twelve year old Carl leans up on his tiptoes for Rick to lean down and kiss him on the temple. Lori’s not around to send Rick off, as usual, but Carl prefers it this way. She’d simply get in the way. After Rick leaves, he waits a couple hours, thinking over his plan, as Lori gets ready for work. She leaves and Carl gives her 10, 15 minutes to get to the snowy, slippery mountain road before picking up the phone and giving her a call. _

_ “Carl, honey? What is it? I’m driving.” _

_ “I know,” he says, voice high pitched and sweet. “I just remembered I forgot to ask you something.” _

_ “What’s that?” She sounds annoyed and occupied, like she’s too busy to listen to him. _

_ Carl has to bite back his smile, trying to sound as innocent and young as he really is.  _

_ “How did it feel when you had sex with Shane?”  _

_ He hears her splutter and the screech of the car tires as she swerves to keep in the lane.  _

_ “W-what?” she stutters. “Carl, honey, what are you saying? Where did you hear that from?” _

_ She’s still treating him like a little kid, someone who might have overheard something. He scowls at the phone.   _

_ “I didn’t  _ hear _ anything; I know what you did. Were you ever gonna tell daddy?” _

_ Lori struggles to find the right words. Carl pushes on. He wants her to hurt. _

_ “You’d break his heart, Lori. You’d break his damn heart and I’m not gonna let you,” he spits at her.  _

_ He knows she can’t believe it, the way her baby boy is cursing and biting back at her. He’s never done this to her, not anyone, but she deserved it.  _

_ “I’m sorry, Carl. I don’t know how you know, but I didn’t mean to hurt you or daddy,” she begs. Carl can hear her tears. She must be losing control of the car by now. It’s snowy, the road’s slick, and Carl snapped off the snow chains on the tires as she was getting ready.  _

_ “You don’t deserve to say that. You let him fuck you for a year. You thought I wouldn’t find out?” He’s yelling at her. She’s hyperventilating, trying to plead with him, apologizing. _

_ “He tried to come onto me, you know? Tried to kiss me, touch me, called me by your name.” Carl doesn’t know when he started crying, too. “I should let him. When you’re gone, he’s still gonna try to fuck me like he did you.” _

_ “What is wrong with you, Carl?  _ What the hell is wrong with you?” _ She yells at him. “How could a boy as young as you be thinking about these things?” _

_ He laughs, cold and high pitched.  _

_ “How? Well, shit,  _ mom _. Maybe you should have noticed something when you started letting Dan babysit me when you and dad were at work,” he says, voice hard and so different from his age. Dan was her friend, a teacher at an elementary school. “You let him into our house and I found out,  _ intimately _ , just how perverted he really is.” _

_ Lori’s sobbing and chanting her apologies like a mantra. Carl laughs at her, tears running down his face.  _

_ “You should just kill yourself, you whore. Dad doesn’t need you, I don’t need you. I’ll gladly fill in for you when you’re dead. I’ll even give Shane your kiss goodbye for you.” _

_ She screams, and it’s a terrible thing.  _

“ Fuck you _ , Carl. You’re not the boy I raised.” It’s the last thing she can say, her last defense. He hears her losing control of the vehicle.   _

_ “I’m not.” Carl nods. “See you in hell, Lori.” _

_ The last thing he hears from her is a scream and a loud crash.  _

_ Sniffling, and wiping away his tears, he hangs up to dial his father’s phone number. He changes his voice back to the pre-puberty sweet tone. _

_ “Daddy?” he says, teary voiced and shaking, smiling internally at the fear in Rick’s tone. “I think she crashed, daddy.” _

 

…

 

He dropped hints all week, with the shower, the bruises, staying out late. He even kept going to Shane to keep the traces of semen and evidence still there. Negan was jealous, of course, pursing his lips every time he saw how ruined Shane left Carl. If Carl let him, Negan might have stabbed the man. 

He noted that every time Rick saw any bruise or hickey, he’d flinch, look away, and then stare. The ache in Carl’s body and the want in his veins tantalizing his desire for his father increased with every passing day. He wondered what he’d do if Rick refused him until the very end. Would he sleep around him his whole life? Was his father’s resistance wearing as thin as his was? Did he burn up every night thinking about his boy? 

When Carl told his mom he’d be in hell with her, he wasn’t lying.

 

…

 

Negan’s hands are tight around his throat, squeezing forcefully. Carl can’t breathe, his cheeks are reddening, his body is hot. The man digs into him, where Carl clenches himself so tight around his length it’s stifling. He lets out a tiny whimper, mouth opening to catch desperate breaths. He feels so full and so good with the pain that convulses through him. 

Negan releases his throat, leaning down to smother him with kisses. Carl moans, mouth dry, throat sore. Suddenly, he brings his hand up to smack Negan across the face hard. The man groans.

“Fuck, baby,” he says, voice low and husky and dangerous. “Tell me what you want.”

Carl struggles to speak, coughing weakly. 

“Hit me,” he rasps. Tears sliding into his hairline. “Fuck me up.”

Negan complies. 

 

…

 

He follows Rick as he thunders towards the station. Shane was on shift today. Carl can’t wait for the destruction they’re about to wreak. 

Rick storms right past the receptionist, who senses his anger and immediately lets him through, and other coworkers whose eyes widen in apprehension. Carl pretends to call his father, trying to “calm” him down. If anything, his pleads seem to push Rick on. His father marches straight to Shane, pressing a finger to his chest. 

“How  _ fucking dare you! _ I trusted you with my family, with Carl, and you turn around and do  _ this _ ?” He hollers, getting the attention of everyone at the station. All eyes are on the head sheriff and his partner as rippling silence falls over them. Carl’s crying, crocodile tears hiding his smile.

Shane shakes his head, eyes wide and terrified. 

“Look, it wasn’t like that, he-”

“Don’t you say ‘he wanted it’ or so help me God,” Rick says, darkly. “I only came here to give you a chance to come clean. Tell me:  _ did you rape my son _ ?”

Gasps fill the station; people begin murmuring amongst themselves. Shane’s in shock, mouth opening and closing with unspoken words. How could he defend himself? Carl gave him no choice, nothing to defend himself with. 

“No. Rick I-”

Rick brings his fist at him, blackening his eye, mirroring the one on Carl’s face. 

“I can’t believe you. You’re a damn monster, Shane Walsh! That’s my boy you touched.  _ My boy _ !” He roars, shaking with rage. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t shoot you right here, right now!” 

“He wanted it, Rick! He fucking asked me to, begged me! I couldn’t stop him from coming on to me!”

Carl steps forward, wrapping his arms around his father to keep him from charging at Shane. 

“Dad, no, stop. Please. He’s your best friend.”

Rick looks at him long and hard, seemingly calmed down a bit, and then says, “He’s nothing to me,” and Carl knows he’s won.

“He’s fucking dead to me,” Rick spits. “Someone arrest him. I don’t want to  _ ever _ see him again.”

 

…

 

RICK

 

They perform a rape kit on Carl with the boy’s consent. Rick refuses to leave Carl’s side, even when they undress him to photograph evidence and swab for semen and blood and other traces left behind. The bruises on his wrist, the hickies, the scratches all point to rape. And Rick is so mad at himself for not taking into consideration all the times he’s seen the proof  _ right in front of him _ . The boy is so brave and so strong during all this. 

Rick hates himself for not seeing the signs earlier. He failed Carl. He couldn’t even protect the last person he had close to him. 

And  _ Shane _ . Rick thought they were friends; they had been for so long. How could he do what he did to a child? Rick’s child? It hurts; it hurts real bad knowing Shane went behind his back like this. He tries not to think about what else could have happened behind his back. 

 

…

 

Shane is ruined. His police certification is revoked, his name is tarnished, his person is shunned. In about three days, when the rape kit results come back, he’d be hauled off to prison for a long time. Rick was given time off to stay with his son, and he can’t say he’s happy about it. He spends most of his time dozing off, thinking back to when things were different. 

He thinks of Shane, how he’s probably at home, drinking himself to death. He wouldn’t be surprised if he did. 

 

…

 

That thought becomes reality when he receives a call from the station while Carl is at school. They tell him he’s dead, that he drowned in his tub after having drunk alcohol and taken half a bottle of his sleeping pills. He commited suicide. 

Rick finds himself sobbing despite everything Shane has done to Carl. 

 

…

 

CARL

 

He skips school, hopping into Negan’s car right after Rick pulls away. 

Their plan is simple: slip the crushed drug pills into Shane’s alcohol and drown him in the bathtub. Negan chose a prescription of pills that has the same chemical content as the sleeping pills Shane sometimes took. They’re both wearing masks, hoods, and gloves. 

Carl sneaks into the house with the spare key Shane hides under the pot at the front door. Shane’s somewhere upstairs, most likely passed out. He finds a relatively full bottle of whiskey in the cupboard and pours in the white powder. He swirls the liquid, dissolving everything before tiptoeing upstairs to plant the bottle on the nightstand in the room Shane’s sleeping in. 

He and Negan wait for an hour before Shane wakes up, and sure enough, he reaches for the whiskey and drinks almost half of it. He’s out before he can even process anything. Negan does the manhandling, lugging him to the bathroom where the tub is almost completely filled. 

They push his head under, and Shane wakes at some point, thrashing. The last thing he sees, under the water, is Carl pulling down his mask to smile bitterly at him. 

 

…

 

RICK

 

He breaks the news to Carl as gingerly as he can. The boy bursts into tears, throwing himself into Rick’s arms. Rick holds him tight, brushing through his hair and whispering words of comfort into his ear. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”

 

…

 

Two weeks later, most of the events are pushed behind them. Carl goes back to the relatively same person, sweet and caring and close to Rick. He wonders if the boy is alright. Truly alright.

He thinks the storm has passed, thinks all is well, until the dream. 

 

…

 

In his sleep, he conjures up Carl, except… it isn’t his son. 

This Carl is tantalizing, erotic, and dangerous. He has black where his blue-grey eyes should be. This Carl is dressed in nothing, stretching his limbs out over red velvet like a cat. He moans and purrs, hands running over his porcelain skin. This isn’t Carl, and Rick is terrified and lustful at the same time. Carl reaches for him, kisses his neck with that pink pout, and pulls him in by his waist. 

Rick is drowning in pleasure, eyes clouded by the red haze that Carl gives him. It’s hot, too hot, and they’re making love in burning fire. He trembles violently, shaken to his very core. Carl’s soft and warm and squeezing around him. The words coming from his mouth are lyrical and filthy. His body is pliant and gorgeous and carnal. Rick can’t get enough. 

He reaches for anything he can feel, hands massaging up the milky skin. It’s warm and so real. 

Then it dawns on Rick that he may not be dreaming at all. He can feel Carl’s soft hair, his real, warm, breathing body. He jolts in horror, eyes snapping open.

His cock is buried in the boy, and Carl is wriggling and moaning in his sleep. Rick can’t breathe, so dazed and confused. How could he have…? Did he undress Carl while he was dreaming about that? Carl shifts closer to Rick, draping a leg over his waist. Rick slips deeper into him at the new angle. Even unconscious, the boy is rocking his hips. 

Rick feels disgusted with himself. He’s no better than Shane, to want this, to be doing this. He grips Carl, trying to push him off. A whimper escapes Carl’s lips, his brows furrowing. It must have hurt; it felt dry. He attempts to move again, but Carl’s arms come up behind his neck to keep him from moving. His eyes open, and he’s peering up at Rick through teary lashes. 

“Dad,” he weeps. “Daddy, hold me.”

Rick breaks down. His resolve is gone. Here, under the sheets, it’s just him and Carl. His boy, his love. They need each other, they love each other. They’ve both felt this way for so long, and now Carl’s here, asking him so softly and Rick can’t refuse him. He’d have granted him anything in this moment. 

They move as one, bodies fitting together so perfectly. He rolls on top of the boy, keeping Carl pressed to his chest. They’re sweat slicked and panting, but it’s the most beautiful thing Rick’s ever experienced. Carl moans softly with every thrust, bliss evident in the way he arches his back and exposes his neck wantonly.

When they both climax, Carl kisses him, just a touch of their lip. 

Rick cradles him to sleep.

 

…

 

They make love again in the morning. Carl looks otherworldly like this, above Rick. His skin is flushed pink and colored gold by the dawn. They kiss for hours, afterwards, tongues in mouths and languidly. Carl tastes so fucking sweet and creamy. Rick feels like he’s floating, with Carl in his arms, and his heart is bursting with love. 

 

…

 

The happy days don’t last long. 

Rick receives a call from the high school, informing him that Carl has skipped classes multiple times over the course of the last three months. He, confused, digs around and finds out that Carl has been skipping school with an adult male. Apparently, someone has seen him leaving school in the mornings, in a black Bentley. Only one person in their lives could afford a Bentley: Negan.

He also found out that Carl was missing the day Shane commited suicide. His suspicion is elevated when Carl disappears after school. 

Rick took the day off, mystified by the call and wondering where his boy has been going. Of course Carl didn’t know this. 

Rick wondered if he always went somewhere after school without him knowing. 

 

…

 

CARL

 

“So, we’ve done it, right?” Negan asks, gazing at him with those intense hazel eyes. “Is that it? That was your goal from the start.”

Carl contemplates before responding, shrugging off his backpack. 

“Yes, it was my goal,” he says slowly. “We most certainly have cleared everyone who could hurt my dad.”

Negan raises an eyebrow. “...but?”

Carl sighs. 

“But, I feel like I need to come clean with him.”

“What?” Negan exclaims. 

“I know, I know. It seems stupid. He’d turn us in, blah, blah,” he continues. “But I don’t think he would. Not anymore.”

Negan scoffs. “And why is that, sweetheart? What makes you think he wouldn’t haul your ass to prison, right alongside me?”

Carl doesn’t respond, opting to look down at his lap. 

Negan’s eyes widen as it slowly comes to him. “Holy shit!”

Carl flushes. 

“Holy shit, I don’t fucking believe it!” Negan laughs. “You and him finally-! Oh  _ Jesus H. Christ _ ! He fucked you?”

The boy nods, suddenly embarrassed. 

“Damn,” Negan whispers, settling down. “You really…  _ wow _ . I underestimated you, kid.”

Carl looks at him, then, tears in his eyes. 

“I love him, Negan. I don’t wanna keep all this shit from him,” he says, voice shaky. 

Negan nods. “Then, tell him. Lord knows I get how you feel.”

Carl goes to him, kissing his lips innocently. “I love you, too, you know. You’re the only person who’s ever understood.”

Negan nods, a sad smile tugging the corner of his mouth. 

“But you love him more,” he says. “I understand.”

Carl slides into his lap, kissing him softly again and again. Negan envelopes him, clutching him close, not kissing him, just pressing their foreheads together. 

 

…

 

Rick reacts badly. 

He tells Carl he’s insane, crazy, a murderer. 

He tells Carl he’s not his son. 

Carl takes it, tears streaming down his face. 

His father turns to leave, and Carl grasps his arm, begging him to not leave, terrified that he might actually do it. 

Rick backhands him, hard, and Carl falls to the floor by the force of it. 

His father doesn’t return that night. 

Carl curls up in Rick’s bed, breathing in the familiar scent, crying himself to sleep. 

 

…

 

RICK

 

The longer Rick drives, the further he gets, the more pain he feels. 

But Carl drove Lori to madness, to her death.

He murdered Shane, tarnished him. 

He slept with more people than Rick dares to guess. 

He tried to pull Rick to hell with him. 

Yet, he is still Rick’s only child, his blood. 

He still loves Rick unconditionally. 

He still needs his father to take care of him. 

Rick thinks back to just a few nights ago, to when Carl kissed him for the first time, to the feeling of indescribable love. 

He thinks back to young Carl, when he was still small enough to sit on Rick’s shoulders at the amusement park. 

He thinks of Carl’s hands, how they changed from small pudgy baby hands to a young man’s slender hands. 

And Rick suddenly starts. 

_ What the hell _ was he doing running away? 

_ Where the hell _ was he trying to go? 

_ Who the hell _ did he have? 

Carl is at home, all alone, heartbroken, destroyed, wallowing in guilt. 

Rick had even  _ hit _ him. 

He swerves, ignoring the honks from passing cars, and hits the gas. 

He needs to get back to his baby and fast. 

 

…

 

Carl is asleep in his bed, looking so pretty and small. His cheek is swelling and red where Rick’s wedding band caught his cheekbone. Rick goes to him, desperately, like a man on a mission. He weeps, all his anger and hate seeping away, leaving only the love he holds for his son. He cradles Carl into his arms and presses kisses all over his face, waking the boy. Carl’s wide eyes mirrors all his pain.

“Dad? You’re back,” His voice is raspy and small. “You’re back. I was so scared you left me.”

He’s crying now, too. Rick keeps kissing him, shoulders shaking with his sobs. 

“I love you, Carl. I love you,” he chants. “I’ll never leave you, I’m so sorry. I love you.”

Carl kisses him, their salt tears mixing between them.

 

…

 

His wedding band and the portrait of what their family once used to be goes up in flames. As they’re watching the weakening licks of red, their hands come to clasp between them. 

To any outsider, they might have seemed like a father and son who’ve suffered the loss of a wife and mother. Still tending to the wounds left behind by a monster of a man. 

But under the sheets- behind closed doors- they were lovers, unbreakable and damned. Not afraid to burn in the fires they light for themselves. 

  
...  
  
  


 

 

 

EPILOGUE

 

“Listen, you… you are  _ despicable _ . I’m talking!” Rick says, undignified but laughing. 

Negan is making jokes, as always. Carl’s laughing, sitting in Rick’s lap. He convinced Rick to invite Negan over for a drink, to “discuss” everything that’s happened over the past 2 year. They told Rick all the details, all the little things, while the man listened with a disturbed fascination. After the pretentious sips of expensive scotch and leveled glares, Carl called out their bullshit and brought out a 12 bottle case of Heineken beer. 

Rick let him have one after a few kisses and whispered promises of filth. Carl watches the two men watch each other, both accessing each other’s motives. He sips his beer, squinting at them. Negan is checking Rick out, he definitely is. Carl supposes he’s always checked Rick out. Ever since they met two years ago. 

“Are you two done checking each other out?” he speaks up, wondering how long it was before they’d come to an agreement of sorts. Rick has always like Negan, but Carl wonders if Rick will see him any differently now after telling him about Negan’s part in Shane’s “suicide”. 

Negan chuckles.

“The boy’s right. Let’s face it, Rick. You think I’m attractive, I get it,” he says matter-of-factly. Rick’s jaw drops. Carl cackles. “We could make a  _ goddamn _ beautiful compromise!”

Rick splutters, trying to come up with something to respond with. 

“I-I do  _ not _ think you’re attractive.”

“Listen,  _ listen _ . You want Carl, I want Carl. You’re the town sheriff, I’m a doctor. I could benefit you financially,” he continues. And then wiggles his eyebrows before adding, “ _ and sexually _ . I studied anatomy, Rick. Trust me, I’m good.”

Carl can’t breathe, he’s laughing so much. Rick turns to him with astounded eyes, like he can’t believe Negan’s proposal. 

“Are you saying you want us to- you want  _ all three of us _ to- get together?”

Negan sips his beer as sensually and as sexually as he can. Rick even cracks a smile.

“Hell, yeah!” he finally says. “I mean, you’re super hot, I’m super hot! And Carl is fucking  _ hot as shit _ . Why not? What do you have to lose? There’s only positives to this, Ricky Rick.”

There’s silence for a whole minute as Rick tries to process all of it. And suddenly he’s shaking his head and getting up. 

“Nope, nope, I can’t-” he says to himself. He turns to Negan, pointing at him. “Fuck you, hold that thought. I need to get really drunk and think it over and maybe pass out. Get out of my house.”

Carl grins at Negan, both of them knowing what that means. They fistbump. Rick chugs scotch straight from the bottle. They walk Negan to the door. The man leans down to kiss Carl, tongue lapping at the boy’s sweet mouth. Carl giggles, turning to kiss Rick right after. Rick groans. Carl tastes like Negan, of smoke and mint and salt. 

Just as Negan pulls away from the driveway, he sends Rick a final suggestive wink. 

  
  
  


_ fin _

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> How did I do? Please comment if you want~ :^)  
> Anyone want a sequel?


End file.
